Golden Flower, Silver Stars
by Lady Elleth
Summary: The tale of Glorfindel´s life - what happened to him after his fall? Chapter 3 up: Thoughts and Memories
1. Chapter 1: Release

Disclaimer:  

I do not claim to own any of the canon characters in this story.  

Everyone else, who is not mentioned in one of Tolkien´s works, is mine.

Author´s notes: 

So this is to become a tale about one gorgeous, valiant blonde elf. 

Nay, it is not Legolas I talk about, but Glorfindel of Gondolin. I assume that he and Glorfindel of Rivendell are one and the same person and on this my storyline is based. 

This story started out as a mere experiment about a possible elven reincarnation, but quickly became much more than that. 

A huge thank you goes to Lothi, TreeHugger (go and read her fantastic tales, if you have not already) and jilian baade (same goes for her) for all the support and help. Thank you, nîn mellyn.

So if OCs are nothing you fear, enter now and accompany Glorfindel on his journey. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter 1: Release 

The spirit trembled.

Fear made his light wax and wane like a star in the sky, and shadows on the cold walls of stone trembled as well.

He had sat in the darkness of his thoughts for a long time, remembering his past life that had been ended by a sword of cold steel, glazing fire, and a fall from the Cleft of Eagles.

His life had been given that others could be saved. 

But this had been a long time time ago and his time of waiting had passed.

No, not yet. His final judgement was yet to be spoken. Would it be his rise or his fall?

He knelt before Mandos, bowing his head in awe before the mighty Vala who guards the souls of the dead. But the everlasting silence was not broken, no voice dared speak a word. 

To him it seemed like eternity, spent waiting before the throne of the Lord of this Halls, ere he rose from his seat and, standing before the spirit, talked to him through silent thought.

"Thou, spirit of the Firstborn who fought against the shadow bravely, were not untouched by it. Thou art one of the Exiled, the Forsaken, who rebelled and left those shores for mortal lands against the biddings of the Valar.

Yet thou shalt be allowed to go back and live in Valinor once again. Thou art given the chance to reunite with thy wife and son. Rejoice as long as thou art able, for in what is but a brief span of years, thou shalt depart for mortal shores once again. As penance this is meant, but also thou wilt have a purpose there: To guard and aid the one whose sire thou rescued by thy own sacrifice. But thou shalt not remember my words, unless thou hast met the one I speak about."

The spirit lowered his head in a graceful motion and a memory of the fateful chain of events once more came back to him. Those events had led from Valinor to his White City, and to his death. But now, he thought with wonder, it was as if he was watching the pictures from afar, uninvolved in the story and not feeling what he had felt back in former days. His death had brought him distance from the events past. 

_Night had crept over the land suddenly._

_The light of Telperion and Laurelin was just beginning to mingle and spread out, when darkness came like a black cloud. _

_The singing, and dancing, and the music in the Halls on the Taniquetil ceased, and in this moment there was utter silence, except for the cries of the Teleri that were coming with the wind through the mountain pass._

_It was dark when the Valar had gathered in the Ring of Doom, and only the stars were shining. The air was clear again, for the winds of Manwe had driven away death´s mists and shadows. But the Two Trees had died and every branch that Yavanna touched broke and fell to her feet lifeless. Many a voice was heard mourning, and the mourning increased when Fëanor refused to give the Silmarils away, for it was only their light that could bring the Trees to life again. _

_But when messengers from Formenos came, reporting that his father had been slain and the Silmarils had been taken, he fled into the night._

_When it was he appeared in Tirion and summoned the Noldor to the King´s Court, none knew exatly, but messengers were sent out to bring even the last. And everyone came, though many were reluctant, knowing that Fëanor had rebelled against the Valar and fearing their wrath._

_Silver blades were gleaming in the torchlight, finely edged and deadly sharp. Bloodred rays of light were dancing over the faces of their owners...Fëanor, the spirit of Fire, and his seven sons. Yet they were not the only ones to bear weapons... there were others bearing spears, and axes, and daggers, prepared for battle in a land that knew no war. _

_And Fëanor spoke words that shall never be heard again. He enflamed calm hearts with a wish for freedom in land under the gentle starlight near the mere of Cuviénen, and spoke against the Valar once more by calling them jealous and of Morgoth´s kin. Long he spoke and more hearts were drawn to him, and in the end he and his sons swore an oath that none should ever vow to keep, for they called the Everlasting Darkness down on them, should they fail. _

_Where once had been a haven with lamplit cais, there was now nothing beautiful left:_

_the white swanships were out on the water, and the very sea was grieving for the Foamriders, waves were clashing against the shore and the ships alike. The air was dark with smoke and thick with the scent of blood. Screams, pleas for mercy and wailing were carried in the wind that reached their ears. _

_More and more ran down the hillside with swords drawn, and still more followed with tears of disbelief in their eyes. When they arrived at the havens of Alqualondë, they found the bodies of the dead. Mothers pulled their children back and covered their eyes that they need not see the cruel reality. _

_There was no question who had done this: the followers of Fëanor and the first ones of Fingolfin´s host. There was the cruel proof of what all knew but none dared to speak out loud. A slain Noldo, with three arrows in his back and his sword beneath him._

_Next to him, still the bow in his hands was a young Teleri. "So this is death", someone whispered._

_And yet, the greatest part of the Noldor had escaped and some were on the ships. But the greater part of them walked upon the shore in the dark and seemingly endless night. _

_On the borders of cold Araman they beheld a dark figure standing upon a high rock overlooking the shore. And there the Prophecy of the North was spoken, the Doom of the Noldor, and upon hearing those words Finarfin and his people turned back to seek the pardon of the Valar. But Fëanor drove his host onward and with him went many of the princes of the Eldalië, the greatest of their kin._

_The ships were burning, he sensed it and saw the red gloom under the clouds far away. _

_They were lost in regions of bitter cold and had no chance but to turn back... or to continue their way. They continued... over the ice of the Helcaraxe and when they first set foot upon mortal lands, the moon rose. _

_Swords were clashing and battlecries were to be heard. Darkness loomed over the hills, watching and waiting. Elves and men alike were falling, as were their foes: Orcs, Balrogs, Dragons. These were the Unnumbered Tears the Noldor should shed, as the messenger of Manwe had foretold. This was the battle, and this was death. _

_When the order to retreat came, they did as bidden and escaped just in time. Many warriors of the Hidden City had fallen, so many... but they still lived. Yet._

_It was the Morning of the Gates of Summer when doom came. _

_The red that was supposed to be a beautiful dawn came from the North. It was not what they had hoped, but now fate was inevitable. They had to fight and to flee their home, a likeness of Tirion upon Túna and the most beautiful of all elven cities in the mortal lands. _

_And it was doomed. _

_It took not long until the city was fallen. Orcs were roaming the streets and the houses, killing everyone who was yet alive. Balrogs were walking in between the fallen, and dragons set houses to fire, and ashes, and ruin. _

_The small group of survivors had fled to the mountains, most of them were women with no husbands left and children without fathers. _

_When they passed the Cleft of Eagles, they were ambushed. Orcs... and a Balrog, a creature of fire and seemingly unstoppable. And yet he fought, not only for the living, but for those who had died. _

_And then the demon fell, pulling him into the abyss as well._

_So this was dying._

The voice of the Vala greeted him after what seemed to have been years... or maybe decades. There was no time in the Halls of Mandos. The dead did not need it. But the living did. Maybe he was soon to be among them once more.

"Dost thou confess that thou hast been there? That thou art guilty to have left the Blessed Realm? Speak now, spirit and tell me, yea or nay."

"I was there, yet how can I feel guilty for the deeds I have done when I feel no pain? And yet I would confess, if I only could."

He could almost feel the Vala smiling. 

"Then thou hast passed the test, Firstborn and canst go now."

When Mandos lifted his hands, a light more bright and more blinding than the rays of Anar surrounded the spirit, and he was carried away. 

He had become a runaway comet, seeking his way through space and time beyond the stars.

Then there was nothing but sheer darkness and silence.

And before him the doors of the Halls opened wide, allowing him to see the green pastures and dark woods of Valinor, and the rivers that wound through the lands like threads of living, glistening silver in the sunlight.

Momentarily blinded he closed his eyes and stood motionless for an instant, his chest heaving and sinking under a layer of fine blue silk. He breathed in the scent of things growing, of earth, of water and of life.

His ears perceived the far-off sound of the many bells of Valimar, of birds singing and the rustle of the wind in leaves...

His fair skin was warmed by the the sun´s rays that touched him almost hesitantly, as if afraid of one who had returned from death. A gentle breeze caressed him.

His heart was beating in his breast, pumping blood through his veins in a rythm that should never have stopped.

When he opened his eyes again, tears trailed down his cheeks. 

He had almost forgotten how it was to be alive. It had almost been too long.

"Alive", he whispered as a hand touched his face, fingertips examining his skin. "Alive." 

He could barely believe it, but true it was. He was alive, and free.

The doors to the dark halls behind him had closed silently again.

* * *

When the daylight died, he arrived in Valimar, the City of Many Bells, where some of the Vanyar, his wife´s kin had settled, desiring to be near to the Valar. 

The golden streets, white buildings, and silver pinnacles were tinged crimsom by the sunset. 

Just like fair Gondolin had been, when the last sunlight of the day touched the white walls and high towers, before doom fell on the city... 

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. This was no time to live in the past and think of things long gone.

The dust of jewels glinted on his clothes, as he walked the streets of Valimar. Usually they were busy, but now there were but few who hurried past him.

From somewhere he could hear the sound of music, and of laughter drifting in a warm wind. Surely today was one of the many days of celebrations that were held during the year and so it was no wonder that the streets were almost empty.

Finally, his feet had borne him to the house where he had lived once. Unsure and suddenly afraid he stood outside and looked at the ornate wooden door. 

Should he go in? What if he found his beloved wife and son gone? 

Not allowing his thoughts to stray any further, he opened the door with a deliberate push.

It had not been locked but only closed.

He found cool air and dim light and silence in all the rooms.

None of the fireplaces was lit and he found no one, not even the housemaids were there, neither were his wife or his son... but considering the celebration, it was no surprise. One could hardly expect to be found at home on such an evening, for it was said that even the Valar attended the festivities of the Vanyar sometimes...

His soundless steps led him through the rooms he had once known... that he knew still. Not much had changed. Finally, he arrived at the door of what had once been his former bedroom... and there also all was as it had been once. The room was scarcely furnished, but the walls were adorned with tapestries showing images of sun and moon, others showed a golden flower and four silver stars on a dark-green background, the banners of both their houses united. 

Great windows were facing east and looked upon the towers of Tirion, visible in the mountain pass that led down to the western shores of Belegaer.

Sighing deeply and inhaling the faint scent of herbs and flowers that clung to the air, he knew that he was home at last.

He looked down on the bed and wished his beloved to be there, whom he had left so many years ago. He did not even know how long his time of absence had been, so how could he expect her to welcome him?

No... they had not parted in anger, but in sadness. His wife and son had wanted to accompany him, but they had turned back with the people of Finarfin eventually, not willing to face the deathly cold of vast Araman and the doom of the Valar. He was grateful that they had done so, considering how many had died there, later on the Helcaraxe and finally, in Beleriand. 

He well remembered the look in her blue eyes, before she turned her back on him.

Wordless she had begged him to come home again, but he could not. Walking beside his Lord Turgon and bearing his standard, his heart was aflame with the thought for land of his own, of light and of beauty. 

Yes, he remembered well indeed all those feelings that could never be silenced, even after all the years, all the wars and all the toils in Beleriand... and best of all, he remembered her love, reminding him that the beauty he had sought was what he had left behind. 

He laid down on the bed and wished suddenly that he had never left.. and with this thought on his mind, he eventually fell asleep, to walk in troubled dreams. She was there, but looked old like the Edain did after facing but brief years, and called him intruder, and then turned her back on him once again, to disappear into thin air. 

It was late at night, when Elentinwë entered the room after having attended the festivities of this evening. Pale blonde hair mirrored the light of a small lamp shining with a delicate crystal that was as blue as her eyes. 

When she became aware that she was not alone, she stifled a cry and backed away.

How came it that a stranger was in her house? 

But then, suddenly, realisation came to her, who he could only be. 

And yet it could not be he, he was gone.

Holding the lamp with trembling hands, she stepped nearer, until the light illumined the stranger´s face.

Elentinwë gasped and the lamp slid from her fingers to fall upon the floor.

Glass shattered and the crystal sprung, the light went out. But in the darkness could be heard her voice, weeping with both joy and pain.

Joy for he had returned and pain for old wounds had opened again, wounds that had barely closed over the years...

She laid down next to him, muttering his name with a voice so quiet that it could barely be heard. "Glorfindel. I am dreaming, I must be."

A gentle laugh was her answer. "Nay, it is I, my love. I have indeed returned."

He placed his arms around her and upon feeling her heart racing, he began to sing softly, to soothe both, her emotions as well as his own.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Elentinwë is Quenya for Glinting Starlight 

To be continued

If you enjoyed reading the first chapter, please leave a review. 

Constructive criticism is appreachiated - tell me what I can do better.


	2. Chapter 2: Daylight Revelations

Disclaimer:

I do not claim to own any of the canon characters in this story.  

Everyone else, who is not mentioned in one of Tolkien´s works, is mine.

Author´s notes and thank you´s: 

-TreeHugger - Again, go and read her tales. I recommend them highly, especially "Bells of Silver", a wonderful story about our favourite golden-haired elf and his betrothed, Laerlend of Mirkwood. 

Thank you for the beta-reading, it must be an awfully hard job. But I did get a little better, didn´t I? 

Next time, nothing will be "on the floor" or outside the quotation marks. =)

-Klose -  Nîn mellon, thank you for inspiring me - the Aiwendil plotbunny is part yours! 

-Dragon-of-the-north - Well, as said in the review to "Orcs and Elves"  Snuga´s words about Turgon greatly inspired me.  Surely you´ll find out what part of this chapter they made me write. 

Give that orc a hug from me, please ;-) 

Notes on this chapter will be found in the end, as well as responses for everyone who reviewed. Thank you all so much! I hope I did not let you wait too long. 

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Chapter 2: Daylight Revelations 

When the gentle sunlight of the new day's dawn crept through the windows, it lit the faces of two sleeping forms still holding each other in a tight embrace.

It was Elentinwë who awoke first, and her eyes widened in disbelief when she realised that the events of the night had been no dream after all. 

While listening to his voice in the darkness she had held him fast, fearing that he was a dream despite all he had said; fearing that he would be gone when the night gave way to the daylight, and would never return. 

But feeling his body close to her now, she knew it not to be so.

"You will not leave again, will you?" she murmured and smiled when he stirred and turned to look at her. The love in his eyes made her heart stop for a moment, as did his words.

"Nay, never. There is nowhere I wish to be, save here. I have been gone for far too long a time." 

Before she could reply, the door burst open and a young elf with dark brown hair 

came running in.

"´tinne, the sun has risen!" , he exclaimed breathlessly, and stopped at her side of the bed to climb up and throw his little arms around her. But suddenly he frowned and looked at Glorfindel, puzzled. 

Snuggling close to Elentinwë, he knit his brows and pointed at her husband.

"Who is that ´tinne? Who is that?", he demanded to know.

She smiled at the youth's impetuous behaviour. Little Súlindo had, as his name -Windsinger- indicated, always been a little wild. 

"'Tis my husband and your grandfather Glorfindel. I told you stories about him, do you remember?"

An excited nod was her answer, and then Súlindo scrambled over her body to hug the golden-haired elf as well, completely oblivious and unheeding for the aura of power that surrounded him. 

"´tinne told me a lot many stories!"  he whispered in Glorfindel´s ear. "Can you really make me fly?"

Now it was his turn to look puzzled, while Elentinwë´s fair face reddened with barely surpressed laughter at the look of Glorfindel with his grandson on his lap. 

Helpless was the best word to describe him. Even though he had fathered a son as well, he had never been in such a situation - and after all, it had been a long time since. 

He looked at his wife pleadingly and silently begged her to solve the situation. Glorfindel did not want to disappoint the little one who watched him with gleaming dark-grey eyes, still waiting for an answer.

Finally, Elentinwë gathered herself enough to speak. 

"Little one, they were stories I told you. But still, there is some truth in it, as you will soon see. Now please leave the room. We will talk about this matter later, just have patience, for there are preparations that need to be made." 

She smiled at him brightly and was rewarded with a wet smack on her cheek. With that Súlindo jumped off the bed and ran from the room.

Both could hear him call, for he had left the door open and his young voice echoed through the corridors, "Glorfindel will make me fly! Amil! Atar! Have you heard?"

Both exchanged amused glances and smiled, but then out of a sudden, Glorfindel became serious again. 

"How fares our son?" he asked. 

Elentinwë returned his stern glance. This was not something she wanted to talk about. Even though they had talked a long time while darkness surrounded them, this was not one of the questions he had asked. All they had craved in the night was the light of the stars and each other. But this reminded her too much of the time after Glorfindel had left them, for Ilurano had kept the sadness and anger he had felt in those days in his heart. And he had had a lot of time to nurture them. 

Secretly, though she would never tell, she felt a shadow of fear cover her heart for what would happen when the two met.

Glorfindel felt her body stiffen against his and sensed the unease he had caused his wife with that question. But he wanted, nay, he needed to know.

"Is there something not well with him? I have heard the little one call for his father, so what can possibly have happened?"

"Nay, he is fine. He is ..." 

Her voice faltered under the weight of the words to come.

"He was hurt that you went away and left us behind. He wanted you to come home again or to follow you. You did not return with us and I allowed him not to leave. He spoke no word to me for a long time, and he never spoke about you again." 

Hearing those words, Glorfindel once again wished that he had not let pride and selfishness rule his actions. He could have spared them - his family - a lot of anguish.

Silence lay between them for a long, uneasy moment. Glorfindel dared not to meet her eyes.

"I know that what I have done is wrong, yet there is now no way to undo it. We need to learn to live with those events. There is no other way."  Still his eyes were fixed on the bedcovers, as if he was not believing his own words at all. The memories and emotions that had felt so distant at first, were now coming back to him with full force. 

As if seeking for support, he tried to take Elentinwë´s hand. She drew it back quickly, before their fingertips touched. 

"Tell me of him," he finally bid her, just to break the silence. He could bear it no more. 

"Tell me of days that I have not witnessed." 

He got no answer and when he finally raised his eyes again, he found his wife looking to the door that Súlindo had left open. Glorfindel was just in time to see someone turning his back on them.

He sighed. "Was that him?" 

A mere nod was his answer. No more needed to be said.

"I know it is hard, but...", he began, but stopped his flow of words quickly, when he realised that Elentinwë was looking out of the windows, away from him. Her slender frame was trembling. 

Glorfindel knew how proud his beloved, like all the people of Ingwë, was and how much it ashamed her to be seen weeping. There was only one time he could remember, when she had not been shy to show her tears openly: when their son had been born. 

"Leave now. Please.", she whispered, but he would heed her words not. Glorfindel gently placed an arm around her shoulder and pulled her back into his embrace, tracing the path of the tears that had already spilled from her eyes with his fingers. 

"Cry, my beloved. There must be much grief weighting on your heart, with me as cause. No one can turn back time, though I fain would."

If she had heard him, she responded not, but once again turned her head away to look upon the towers of Tirion in the distance. A sigh escaped her lips, but she straightened her shoulders and rose to his feet. In the moment their bodies ceased to touch, she already missed the warmth and comfort he had so freely offered her. Her life had been too cold for long years. And thus, the decision she had made only moments ago, was changed. The decision not to live with Glorfindel again, for she feared to be not able to cope with the pain of the past disappeared not utterly, but was replaced by a new confidence yet unspoken. Maybe all could become as it was once. There was light and happiness in Valinor again, so there might be a chance for them also. 

"We should forget and start anew. There is too much darkness behind us that not even your return can light," Elentinwë said, and through her tears wove a smile that proved that she believed the words she had just spoken. 

"Yes, there is darkness behind us, and there is death." Glorfindel closed his eyes and breathed in the clean air, as he faintly felt smoke in his lungs. "Yet those things are but memories now, and we need not start anew, but can continue our way together."

"You understand me not. For you, beloved, it may be only memories, for you are granted a second life. For me, they are not. There is no distance from those events save time for me. I still live the same life, and you know as well as I that time matters not in lands where everything is immortal. It seems like yesterday to me, that rumours came that told of Ondolinde and your fate. `Tis not only a memory for me. If you can not understand this, I bid you to go."

The next words were hard for him, and his heart seemed to cease its beating for the cold of fear that spread through his veins. 

"I understand it not. Fare thee well then, my lady, and forget me not, though we part for a second time."

He stood then, and straightening his clothes went to the door without looking back. He started, when Elentinwë, who had remained in the room, called out to him. 

"Wait. I already told you that I could not bear it to be alone again after you held me in your arms this night. Go not, for my words were folly and I knew not what I said."

A faint spark of hope stirred in his heart. 

"Then you have changed your mind?" Glorfindel asked.  She nodded wordlessly. "It broke my heart to see you go. I wish not to again loose you. Stay, and never leave those who you love again."

"I will not. I vow to Varda Elentári and Manwe Súlimo."

But as he spoke those words, a feeling inside him warned the golden-haired one that this oath would not be one he could keep.

***

He smiled upon hearing the voice of Súlindo. "Amil, Glorfindel will make me fly, it is so exciting. How will he do it, what do you think?" 

In the next moment, the little one, holding his mother's hand, appeared. But as soon as he had seen his grandfather, he ran to greet the golden-haired elf with a fierce hug. 

"Is it time now?" he asked, and held up his arms so that the elder could take him up. 

"Nay, little one. Not yet, for not all preparations are finished. Your grandmother sees to the last of them. Be patient, for this is a great virtue in life," Glorfindel answered and knelt down. "Sit on my shoulders," he said with a wink. This was something he needed not have said - the little one had attempted it already. 

Eventually, he stood up without being in danger of loosing his balance, even though the young elf clung to his back with the grace of a net full of fish, but determined not to lose his hold.

His arms nearly strangled Glorfindel, but he managed a smile nonetheless when he saw that the young one's mother standing and watching them.

"You must be Lairë then. My wife has already told me about you and your son, yet you surpass my imagination. Lairë is a beautiful name for a even more beautiful woman."

He yelped in surprise, when Súlindo decided he had been ignored long enough and tickled him with his naked feet. Glorfindel bowed forth a little, causing the boy on his back to hold even more tightly.

"Let go now, my little friend," he whispered and sat down in a graceful motion. "I deem I see your grandmother coming, and someone is with her. Mayhap it is time now."

He smiled encouragingly before the little one ran off. Glorfindel then turned to look at Lairë once more to regard her with the fitting attention. It was now that he noticed the gentle swell of her belly and the way her left hand rested protectively on her abdomen.

"You are with child?" he asked and received a nod from the dark-haired woman. 

"Yes, my Lord. Bliss and peace have returned to these lands, and 'tis a good time to  bear children so they may enjoy this life also." Her grey eyes shone with joy, when she finished speaking.  "Speaking of children, know you what the story Súlindo has been told is about, other than to make him fly?" 

He had to shake his head at this. "Nay, I do not, for no one has told me yet. But even though I know him only for what are but a few hours, I feel that Súlindo will soon tell me." 

She laughed and looked at him surprised. "You know him well, already, indeed. He will tell you, be assured. His mouth never stands still." 

"Maybe he will be quiet, at least for a while. Come with me now and let us hear of the plan." 

Glorfindel took Lairë by the offered arm then, and led her towards Elentinwë, who was approaching them with two other elves at her side, one with tresses of silver, and one with dark hair. A bluebird sat on the latter´s shoulder, singing merrily. Their long robes, one grey and one in earthy tones, were richly embroidered with silver and copper threads.

Súlindo who had first ran to meet them, had disappeared from view, but his voice was heard through the house's backdoor that opened to the garden. Apparently he was trying to lure the housemaids away from their duties, ´ to see him fly `. 

Upon seeing the two companions of his wife, Glorfindel stopped, amazed. 

What radiated from them could best be described as utter power, not unlike what he had felt on the day of his judgement by Mandos.

He could not withhold a gasp of wonder, when he looked into their eyes. 

The orbs, of bright blue and green were shining with a wisdom none of his folk had reached. 

Even though they looked like Eldar, they were not of his kind. 

They could only be two of the Maiar, created before even the world came into being. 

_"Yes, you are right," _he heard a kind voice inside his head, and in the same moment he would  have sworn that the grey-robed had winked at him. 

_"It is surprising that one of the Eldar perceives who we are in the first moment; this is something only few can do. There must something special about you."_

His concentration was broken in this moment, when Elentinwë gently touched his arm.

"Glorfindel?" she asked, unsure why her husband stared at Olórin so. 

"Yes?" He shook his head and was rewarded with several amused glances - of Lairë, his wife, and even of the two Maiar. 

"Would it not be better to speak about the plan we will to carry out, instead of just glancing at one another?" Glorfindel grinned and nodded, but in the blink of an eye he turned and ruffled his hands through her hair playfully. He fought hard to keep an innocent face when he responded, "Yes, it would be better. But would you care to introduce our guests first, my love?" 

" There is no need for this. My companion is called Aiwendil by your kin, and most name me Olórin," He looked at them, his blue eyes sparkling,  "And we both know who you are", he added.

"So, now that this matter is settled, would care to introduce your plan, then?," Glorfindel asked with one raised eyebrow. 

"Of course. In fact, our "plan" has already been summoned," Aiwendil answered with a smirk. 

In this moment, a shadow came rushing from the mountains and through the garden, for seconds darkening the earth as it went by. A bellow followed, and when the heads of the elves and Maiar turned upward, they perceived one of the great eagles of Manwe circling above them. His feathers shimmered in the sunlight, and even from below, the amber glint of the eagle's sharp eyes could be seen when he circled lower, and he eventually landed on the grass in front of  the group. 

"This is our plan." 

Glorfindel looked at the bird of prey, his eyes darkening with a memory, but shook his head quickly to push it back. "And what shall he contribute?" he asked unbelieving, and looked at the eagle once more, who watched them with slightly opened beak and wary eyes. It almost seemed that he understood their every word.

"We are going to make your grandson fly. If the little one clings fast to the eagle, there should be no danger for him. And even if he would fall, no harm would be done, for this eagle´s talons are strong and would catch him, long ere Súlindo hit the ground. 

"But of course, we need to know if his mother agrees or refuses." 

"I agree. I see that nothing dangerous will happen," Lairë´s clear voice could be heard. When they all turned to look at the dark-haired Noldor lady, they saw her eyes sparkling. "He has asked me so many times, and it would be wonderful to have a moment's rest," she told them and laughed. "Though probably he will keep on telling me about it time and time again. But it is worth a try." 

"So, where is Súlindo? Is he still in the house?" Elentinwë asked." 

"Yes, I guess he is. I am going to fetch him. Wait but a minute." With a smile on her face, Lairë went to get her son.

However, before she had reached the backdoor the little one came running out, holding in his little hands the dress-sleeves of the housemaids, thus forcing them to come after him, whether they wanted it or not. 

He stopped when he saw his mother. 

"How often have I asked you not to pull at anyone´s clothing or hair, Súlindo?" she asked. Súlindo looked straight in her eyes, and even from some meters away the rest of the group could see the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "Very often," he answered now. "But Amil,  Fanyalossë and Nermi didn't want to come and so I had to bring them with me. They should just have some fun!" he pouted, shoving his lower lip out and fluttered his lashes.

"Is it true what he says?" Lairë asked. She had learned from experience that Súlindo often tried to twist the truth to the way that suited him best. 

"Yes, he speaks the truth," one of the maidens answered, while the other acknowledged her words with a nod. 

"Very well," Lairë sighed. "Then let us not tarry longer. Súlindo, I think what will come to pass now is something you have never dreamed of.. Can you guess what will happen?" 

The little one beamed, a bright grin spread over his face. "I am going to fly!" he cheered and ran towards the group. "How?" This was revealed to him now, as the others, who had blocked his sight, stepped aside and he could see the eagle. 

Minutes later the laughter of the little one rang through the calm air. The eagle was not flying very far from the ground - he circled just above the tops of the tallest trees in the garden. It seemed to be a great height for Súlindo though.

"I am flying! Look, I can almost touch the ship of Arien!"

After a time, the eagle descended again from the airs and landed on the ground gently. The great bird, whose feathers shimmered almost golden in the sunlight, waited until the young elf had dropped to the earth again, and with a last bellow and the beat of his mighty wings he strayed into the air again and disappeared up the side of the Mountain in steep flight. 

Even after his shadow was gone, Súlindo still stood with his head thrown back, and watched the blue sky intently, as if he could summon the eagle to come again just by thinking of it. 

After a few moments, he gave up his watch and slowly, as if still in a dream , he walked over to the group and hugged the two Maiar fiercely. "Thank you, Olórin! Thank you, Aiwendil! But it was over far too fast! Can you call the eagle back? I tried, but it did not work! Please!"

The two Ainur looked at each other, and eventually it was Aiwendil who spoke. 

"Not today, little one, for we also have our duties, and our Lords and Ladies demand our presence now. Another time we might be able to repeat it, but today we will not. But worry not, it is in my power to fulfill your wish. I am not named bird-lover for nothing. All birds, from the smallest to even the great eagles of Manwe obey me gladly."

"Even though I needed to help you persuading Lord Manwe to agree to the plans you devised", Olórin said quietly and smiled. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Glorfindel, and a pleasure also to see the other of you again, my dear friends. But we shall go now."

When Súlindo looked up to the Maiar, an expression of misery on his face, Olórin smiled kindly.

"We shall come back, my little friend. Until then, you will surely have many a dream and fond memory of this day."  

"Really? Do you promise it?"

"Yes, we promise you by our honour as servants of the Lords of the West."

"I hope you will come back soon!" Súlindo cried in his usual lively way, and the adults smiled at each other when Lairë´s son ran off once again, beaming. He tried to imitate the bellows of the eagle, and had spread his arms as if they were wings. 

***

The morning was changing to mid-day when Glorfindel sat in his garden under a tall tree, welcoming the shadows of the green boughs that were protecting him from the heat. The leaves of the Mallorn rustled in the wind and he smiled, listening to a tale only he could hear.  It spoke to him of what had happened during his absence, of the things Elentinwë had not been able to tell. The tree told him of a fair, dark-haired maiden, sharing shy kisses with his son, of a father gently holding a babe in his arms and of nimble feet running around and yells of delight, when two young elves played tag. 

How he wished he had been there instead of living in a place that only reminded him of fading, and of dying, and decay. In those lands where he had been, nothing was immortal, not even the immortals themselves. And so he had died, along with so many of his kin.

"Father?" 

Glorfindel looked up to find a tall, lean Eldar gazing down on him with a hawk-like stare. Despite everything Elentinwë has told him, he rose to his feet, smiling and made a move to embrace the other. 

"Ambaron. It is good to see you again, my son," he said as a greeting. But his son, who had inherited his mother's pale hair and bright blue eyes, stepped back a few inches, avoiding the arms waiting for him. It was now that Glorfindel saw the unfamiliar fire smouldering inside the icy blue orbs. It had not been there in ages past, but back then Ilurano had been only a young boy. He had changed. They all had.

"Call me not by this name," he said coldly, "I do not bear that one you bestowed on me anymore. My name is Ilurano."

Glorfindel nodded gravely.  "The name your mother gave you. So be it. But wish you not to greet one who has been gone for so long?" The words were clearly tinged with hurt of this rejection. But in the next moment the golden-haired one chided himself mentally, not to react in such a foolish manner. He should have known. 

All those thoughts passed by in what was but a moment. 

Ilurano stood, alert and waiting for what was to come, his hair swaying in a somewhat stronger breeze that carried the sound of waves with it. 

"First know, for what reason I went to fight in the War of Wrath, and why I undertook all those journeys to Númenor. I went to find tidings of you, for though I have never forgiven you, I could not bear to perceive how my mother suffered. She scarcely smiled or laughed, and ever after tidings came from the East, a shadow of grief lingered in her face. I knew not the reason for this, until this morning, when Lairë told me what had come to pass. Now you have come back from the Halls of Mandos and I am glad – for my mother. But do not expect me to show you affection. Greetings, my father," he answered finally, and turned around before Glorfindel had a chance to reply. With swift steps Ilurano disappeared into the house. 

And another memory came to Glorfindel, unbidden.

_"From darkness and despair to beauty and light! Follow me, you, who were left on this shore! Our hands are stained with the blood of our kin for naught! The way by sea is a road lost to us, so let us brave the ice of the Dark Foe of this world! We will survive and we will have light, for we will wrestle the Silmarils from the tainted claws of Morgoth and repay those who left us behind!" _

_An immediate__uproar of voices followed the words of Turgon. Cheers and shouts - and silence from many not touched by his speech. Glorfindel turned to gaze upon his wife, silent, and his son, cheering  - like he himself was. It was clear to see in the eyes of the child that he would follow and trust his father. In this very second he wanted nothing but to cast down Turgon´s standard to the cold earth and hold those two who were most precious to him, but he could not. He remained on his feet and looked ahead. He had even done so on the eve of their march back, even when his son had told him that he would follow, and he had denied this wish, for he knew for sure that Elentinwë would return home. Her wordless plea to accompany them had told him enough,  and the hurt in his son´s eyes tore at his heart. And yet he went onward, joining in the songs that the other captains sung, while his family went away._

And thus it was his fault that his son despised him now; or so he thought. If he had known what Ilurano truly felt, he would have acted otherwise.

Guide to Quenya-names and words:

Elentinwë - Glinting Starlight, wife of Glorfindel 

Súlindo – Windsinger, son of Lairë and Ilurano

Lairë - means either Summer or Poem, decide which one you like better, wife of  Ilurano

Olórin - Quenya-name of Gandalf

Aiwendil - Bird-Lover, Quenya-name of Radagast

Fanyalossë - White Fallen Snow, one of the two housemaids

Nermi - field-spirit (pl. Nermir, a group of the Ainur, fays of the meads, she is an elf, though), the other housemaid

Ambaron - Sunrise, father-name of Glorfindel´s son

Ilurano - Universe-Wanderer, mother-name and prophetic name of Glorfindel´s son

Arien - the maiden steering the sun-ship

Ondolinde - Quenya-name of Gondolin

Amil – mother

Atar - father (see Sindarin "Adar")

Something about Olórin and Aiwendil:  It is said in the HoMe Vol. 12 ("Morgoth´s Ring") that Glorfindel became a follower and friend of Olórin, so I needed a way to introduce him. 

The reason I preferred Aiwendil to another of the Istari (wizards) e.g. Cúrumo/Cúrunir (later known as Saruman) is that he is indeed depicted as a lover of birds and beasts. He is a Maia of Yavanna, so this is – at least to me –  very fitting. Olórin is a Maia of Manwe and Varda, and so I thought that he could help with the eagle.  

They had taken on elven shape, because it is said that the Valar and Maiar did that at times, and it is explicitly said of Olórin who walked among the Eldar unknown. Yes, I know that this contradicts what I have said about Glorfindel: he knew or probably sensed who those two were, because (and this is also stated in HoMe 12) his spiritual powers were greatly enhanced by his self-sacrifice in Gondolin. He had become almost an equal to the Maiar after his release from the Halls of Mandos. 

One last thing: I chose the colours grey and earthy brown for Olórin and Aiwendil, because this was the way they were dressed later in the Third Age in Middle-earth. Besides, in the Unfinished Tales, Olórin was clad in grey also, when he attended a council of the Valar. Their hair colours are purely speculative. 

Response to reviewers:

addicted:** Thank you for your feedback. I am glad you enjoy the story and hope you still like his family after what has happened. **

Klose:** Well, nin mellon, what am I supposed to say now? I am simply overwhelmed by your comment. I honestly did not expect that this story was such a success. **

But of course you are right, Glorfindel does indeed deserve all the attention. He is gorgeous.

I have nothing against OFCs either - as long as they are no Mary Sues. 

Finch:**  Yay! Constructive feedback *dances around happily* **

Thank you for the compliments - seems like you have read my mind. The things you mentioned were exactly what I wanted to achieve, but was not sure if I really did it. I am glad that you got it =)

Concerning the guilt question - I read the Last Writings and pondered long about the cause of his release - later chapters will deal with this. He is guilty after all, no one can deny that and the Valar are not as mild as you might think them to be. Mandos already spoke the golden-haired´s doom - to return to Middle-earth and Glorfindel accepted it. He was not simply done with confessing.

Wait and thou shalt be enlightened...

purple-sorceress:**  Thank you. Those are things I was not sure about, either. **

The Halls of Mandos were difficult to write, because I had no real picture of them, except that it was dark, cold and the walls were of stone. I am glad that it worked, though, for there was not much more I wrote 

The other thing is Elentinwë. I feared that she would become a Mary Sue.. but since no one voiced that by now, I hope she did not become one of those repulsive beings. I do not like them, normally. There are exceptions, though. 

Queen of  Shadows:Yes, this story will explain eventually, why Glorfindel of Gondolin is the same person as Glorfindel of Rivendell and why he is there after all. Just have some patience, everything will be explained in later chapters. 

TreeHugger:** Well. I you do not know what to say, what can I say then? Thank you would not be appropriate enough. Dankeschön =) is not any better, but well… it is more special. Ai. Does that make any sense?  **

I am very glad that you liked ´tinne - though I fear she has indeed turned to a Mary Sue in this chapter. I am far from happy with her sometimes… but you are right about the sadness that overshadowed and overshadows still her and Glorfindel´s relationship. I hope there will be light after a time. I sincerely hope so. 

LOTR Lover:  Thanks, not only for the FB about Elentinwë. As mentioned before, I was really not sure about her. And well, the grammatical errors and run-on sentences are entirely my fault, since I am not a native speaker….  It seems I screw up some sentences so badly that not even Tree, my fabulous beta can solve them. 

Siobhan-Lhuderl-Hirl:  Hm. Yes, gorgeous and valiant. There are many elves who are, and your Beleg Cúthalion is one of them. I like him as well =) 

Dragon-of-the-north: Okay, here is your long-expected chapter… Ich hoffe, es konnte deinen Erwartungen standhalten. Was das Weitermachen betrifft: Klar hör ich nicht auf, ich hab auch nicht über die Story gesprochen, sondern über meine bio-page, wo ich die Leser ja auf dem Laufenden über meine Geschichten halte. Wenn es allerdings keinen interessiert, kann ich diese News auch einfach weglassen, hm?

twin03: Thank you =) Here is what you demanded -more to read for you. I hope you enjoy it.

Dís: A dwarf maiden reviewing? What an honour! I will write more, do not worry. And thank you =)

If you enjoyed reading this chapter, please leave a review. 

Thanks =)


	3. Chapter 3: Thoughts and Memories

Disclaimer:

I do not claim to own any of the canon characters in this story.  

Everyone else, who is not mentioned in one of Tolkien´s works, is mine.

Author's notes: 

Huge thanks go to everyone who helped me on this story: Elvea Aure, Klose and Lothanoriel. I don't know what I would do without you. This story would be a mess. Tree, I hope you had a nice holiday =). 

Notes on this chapter will be found in the end, as well as responses for everyone who reviewed. Thank you all so much! I promise not to let you wait for so long again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter 3: Thoughts and Memories 

Three days had gone by since Glorfindel had been released from the Halls of Mandos, and though the time passed slowly in the Blessed Realm, it passed nonetheless.

The morning was peaceful in the house of Glorfindel and Elentinwë, save for a small elfling who silently tapped into the room of his parents, who were both still asleep. They did not notice the young one approach, until he roused his father.

"Atar, my tooth," the young elf said as Ilurano's gaze steadied and he looked at his son, holding something small and white in his hand. Tears threatened to spill from the young one's eyes. "Atar, it has fallen out. You are a smith. I am sure you can fix it. Can you fix it?" he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Ilurano sat up in the bed and pulled the little one into his lap. 

"No, my dear Súlindo, I can not fix it again. It is not even necessary, for a new tooth will grow where the old one has fallen out. You are growing up, this is a sign for it. Is it not something you always wanted?"

"Yes!" the little one exclaimed happily, though it sounded tired. He planted a wet smack on his father's cheek and cuddled deeper into his lap.

Ilurano felt a tinge of regret that he had to leave soon, and miss this time in the life of his son, to council the king of Andor, the land of the gift, which the mortals called Númenor. The anger he felt for his father leaving centred for a moment on himself and he winced at the unwelcome sensation. It was not an alien feeling, though. He had already felt stronger hatred for the creatures of Morgoth run through his veins wildly, when he was fighting in the War of Wrath to deal vengeance for all that had happened. Had it not been for Morgoth, his father would never have left them behind. 

Ilurano's thoughts snapped back to reality when he realised what he had been just thinking. It was not solely his father's fault that they had been left alone.

"No," he murmured, shaking his head and burying his face in his hands. The words of Olórin echoed in his mind when the Maia had comforted his mother in the time of worst grief – he had said that it was not her fault, not Ilurano's, and not even only Glorfindel's, but the fault of those who had caused the darkness. 

Now he understood that Olórin had had been right; now, after all this time. He had a lot to apologise for, for he had avoided his father whenever possible in the past days. If he had to speak with him, he had been as unfriendly and cold as possible, to not let his father get a look past the barriers around his soul, that he only now realised there were. 

The blonde elf looked out of the high window and down onto the road that was still mostly empty in those early hours. He turned away with a fast motion as he saw his father walking there. For a moment he wondered why Glorfindel would leave ere anyone in his house ought to be awake, but dismissed those thoughts quickly as guilt whispered in his heart again. And so Ilurano welcomed the content mumble and the movement on his lap that reminded him that he still held his son in his arms. Súlindo had fallen asleep again, the dark head placed on his father's shoulder, hair spilling over his face, and the little thumb stuck in his mouth. 

The young one's father thought that his son was perhaps still dreaming about the eagle, and smiled slightly, when he laid his son into the bed beside Lairë. He himself laid down again, too, cherishing the warmth they shared, knowing it was the last time for a month, for he had to leave in the evening. 

* * * 

It was still early morning, and the save for some rare rays of light that filtered in through the Calacirya and were mirrored by the golden and silver roofs of Valimar, Arien had not yet shown her face over the peaks of the Pelori. In the distance the towers of Tirion could be seen shimmering white between the treetops. Beneath them, in the green shadows, the air was still cool and moist and the chirping of birds and the burbling of a brook were the only sounds.  

Glorfindel walked the alley with silent steps, approaching his former home, even though he did not know what he wanted there. All others of his kin save those whom he left behind had been slain in Gondolin, and the white house of his mother and father in Tirion would surely be abandoned, like those of so many others who had left Valinor years and years ago. 

The golden-haired elflord allowed his thoughts to wander back to the time when he had left the house of his parents, when Elentinwë and he had been newly wed and he moved from Tirion to Valimar. They had walked this same alley he treaded now, followed by a crowd of guests. Merry songs had filled the air that day, wishing the couple blessings and the grace of the Valar. 

He continued his way, wistfully remembering the happier days before he had made the one mistake that had changed his life, and that of all his family.  True, he had loved Elentinwë dearly, and he loved her still, but he was no fool and in the last days he had realised that her behaviour towards him was more reserved and she no longer was as joyful and loving as on the day he had returned from the Halls of Waiting. And he could not blame her, nor his son, who showed his feelings more openly and to whom he had rarely spoken. 

He was the one who had brought unrest into their lives, two times now. 

Glorfindel believed the consequences of his departure with the host of Turgon more dire, for he had been too proud and unwilling to turn his back on the other warriors, and too ashamed to return to his home like a craven. 

It was only now that he realised that it would not have been cowardly to continue, but to resist the powerful words of Fëanor, the fire they had kindled in his heart and later the thoughts of vengeance for being left behind and betrayed, while a fleet of swanships crossed the ocean. 

The second time he had brought unrest to his family had been his return, unexpected by all, and as it now seemed, unwanted. His family, his wife and son, as well as Lairë and Súlindo had settled in a routine without him, and had lived this way many years through, until he had so suddenly re-appeared and therewith disturbed it. 

He had watched them in the past days, silently observing what had changed in the long years of his absence. And even though there were only few greater differences at first sight, it were the many details that were not the same anymore. There was one thing that had struck him in particular - while the members of his family had been allowed to stroll outside the whole day long and could return when they had seen it fit long ago, now they would meet on an appointed time in the evening. They would gather in the living room of the house and light the tale-fire, and then listen to what the others had to say, tell tales or sing something.

This originally was a custom of the elves of Tol Eressea, but many a family of the Vanyar and Noldor had adopted this habit. Normally, the fire was kindled when a couple married and moved into a house of their own, symbolising the warmth and love they had for each other. 

He could very well remember the day when Elentinwë and he had kindled their own fire, starting with many vain efforts that were accompanied with laughter from them both. But finally, when the flames burned high, and their faces were smeared with soot and their eyes were shining in the dancing light, their lips met in a passionate kiss. And normally, the fire, aided by magic, should have never burned down. Yet that of his wife and him had, in more than one way.

The wanderer stopped on the road and turned back, intending to go back home. Still, memories came flooding back to him, mingled pictures from his early childhood and his march away. 

_The voice of his father was gentle and understanding, a warm hand was placed on his shoulder and the little injury on his knee throbbed. He sniffled and wiped his nose with a sleeve of his robe while trying to understand his father's words. _

_"My son, listen to me. If there ever should be a reason for you to spill tears, do not let them fall. Hold them back and fight the feeling." _

_"But Atar, my knee hurts," he had responded, unsure why he was not allowed to cry. _

"I know it does, my son. But the pain will pass more swiftly if you do not allow yourself to think about it. Do you understand my words?"

He had nodded and ran off to play with his friends again, but it had been many years until he had really understood the full meaning of those words.

_The night turned ever clearer as the host of Turgon marched further North. The stars overhead were shining like the gems of Fëanor, whom the elves pursued. The wind was icy, bearing snow-crystals with it that stung his hands, his face, his eyes, as he lay on the ground, wrapped in blankets against the bitter cold. He had turned his back to the other warriors and captains of Turgon and tried to find comfort in the faint starlight playing on the half-frozen waves; with no avail. It was hard to ignore the fact that he had sent his loved ones away when he should have followed them, and not his pride. Even though he knew he still could come back, what arrival in Valimar would it be? He would come home like a craven, like a coward, and it would be unlikely that his Elentinwë would accept him again with open arms. _

Before this point of time he had never experienced such pain, and even though he had remembered his father's advice , he did not know what to do. Tears spilled from his eyes unhindered for the very first time since he was very young, and froze in the corners of his eyes. In this moment knew he had been defeated in all ways possible, yet he decided not to go back, but to look forward. 

Little did he know what would come of the fire that had been rekindled in his heart, and what would be the consequences he would have to bear. 

Silently he swore to himself that he would heed his father's words now, and that he would not fail this time. This time he would fight, and he would not let his failure tear his family apart once more. He would give Elentinwë, Ilurano, Lairë and Súlindo no cause for sorrow. Maybe he could not set everything right again what had been wronged, but he could try. He would.

With this thought on his mind he continued his way with steps a little more light – it was to Glorfindel as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his heart, even though there was still something that weighed it down. 

It did not take him long anymore to reach the end of the shadowed alley that had led him away from Valimar. Before him opened the Calacirya, and in the midst of the sheer walls the green hill of Túna rose before his eyes. The white walls of polished stone on its crown mirrored the morning sun that had now fully risen. 

Glorfindel stood in awe for a moment, among all his thoughts he had forgotten about the splendour of fair Tirion, the city of his birth. Many white roads wound up the hillside among trees of evergreen and fields of flowers. 

As if he was unsure about his actions, Glorfindel's steps became slower as he approached the hillside. 

Gondolin, Ondolinde – it had been the same feeling for him in the years ago. He could remember how all the company had stopped in the mountain pass leading down onto the plain, and had looked in awe upon the jewel in the midst of the green. It had soon earned the reputation to be indeed a likeness of Tirion, but much more he could not remember of that day. A mist as if a cloud had veiled the sun had crept into his memories and obscured them beyond his ability to see. Grateful for the fading of his memories, yet not thinking why this had happened, he shook his head to clear it of even the last unwelcome images. This was not Gondolin; the Singing Stone had fallen, and its ruins were far away, beyond the sea. This was Tirion, city of his birth and childhood, where he had first encountered the fair maiden that now was his wife. 

He had no need to contemplate the past. 

As if it was this that had prevented him from going on, he took up his pace again and slowly ascended the road that every now and then was interrupted by a set of stairs. Eventually he had arrived at the top of the hill, crowned with the slender tower of Mindon Eldalieva and many a fair house. 

He walked through the white streets aimlessly and past his parents' house, without even acknowledging the fact where he was. His steps led him over a marketplace and into the narrower streets of the city. It was here where galleries and workshops could be found, and may small stores that sold goods found nowhere else in Tirion. 

Ahead of him the road opened to another square ringed with houses. From the tree-shaped fountain of white stone in its middle, water dropped back into a basin and from somewhere not too far away the wind carried the sound of a flute with it. 

He had never been here before, he who had boasted in his youth that he knew every corner in Tirion, and decided to stay for a while and think over his decisions again, before returning to Valimar. 

Glorfindel studied the sunlight and shadows on the water for a moment, before stooping to drink of the cool liquid and to splash his face with it. 

He sat down with his back to the stonewall of the fountain and as he allowed his thoughts to wander, he found himself in the alley again, recalling what he had done wrong, and how he could set it right once and for all. Not much time had passed when his eyes became unseeing and the golden-haired drifted into the world of dreams and visions that had been his home for long years. Not only in the Halls of Mandos, even before he had fallen. And from this time a voice called to him now, melodic, musical and cheerful as always.

"Glorfindel! Is it really you? Wake up and answer me!" 

A soft laugh followed, and a strong hand clasped Glorfindel's arm in the fashion of a warrior. He was pulled to his feet and awoke from his thoughts with a start; to look into a smiling face framed with dark hair. 

"Glorfindel? Yes, it is really you; I would recognise you everywhere, even if it were among thousands of your kin! Tell me, when have you returned?" 

Glorfindel stared at the other elf in astonishment for a moment, unbelieving. His face lit up with a smile and his eyes shone upon meeting someone whom he had thought long lost to fire and water. 

"Ecthelion. You have not changed a bit, my friend, save that you look more splendid than ever!"

"Thank you," the Noldo laughed and pulled Glorfindel into an embrace, studying his face. 

"Would you please release me from your arms now? Friends we may be, but there is no need that folk starts calling us lovers," Glorfindel asked after a moment. The dark-haired elf winked and released him, but took him in his arms yet again with a swift movement but a second later. 

"Why conceal the truth we both know? I have waited so long for a kiss from your lips. Too many years we were apart, and now upon meeting again, you draw back? What has become of the elf I shared nights of passion with?" 

"'Tis a good thing we meet again, but what is this madness that has befallen you? We swore that no one should know of our love for each other, do you not remember?" 

"Yes, I remember. And I apologise, for this fact had eluded my memory until now. But let us go, so we may lie in each other's arms again! I can barely await to feel your touch once more!" 

"Neither can I. Let us go, and swiftly!" 

Ecthelion could no longer hold a straight face and laughed, nearly doubling over with mirth. His right hand clutched Glorfindel's shoulder and his left the rim of the fountain for support. He laughed until tears formed in his eyes and he gasped for air, not noticing at first that Glorfindel had stopped laughing, and his face was solemn again. His eyes grew distant for a moment, remembering the all too familiar banters between the two of them, which they had acted out at nearly every meeting in Gondolin. 

The last time had been the day before the fall, and the last time they had talked at all. 

When Ecthelion's outburst of mirth had died down to chuckles, Glorfindel helped him to stand straight again, and tried a hesitant smile. 

"'Tis truly good to see you again, my friend. But let us stop this childish banter now, and go to my house, where you may refresh yourself better than with the water of one of my fountains," the Noldo donned in silvery-white garments said. 

While they walked through the streets, Ecthelion looked at his silent friend more than once, and every time the crease between his brows became deeper. He clearly felt that something was not right with Glorfindel, but he could not say what exactly it was. Not wanting to touch this matter on the open streets, where people passed them by, of whom many waved their hands in greeting to the Lord of the Fountain, he kept silent. 

After a short walk they reached the house of Ecthelion. The two elves crossed a tree-lined yard with another fountain in its middle on a way strewn with white pebbles. Under the ancient elm-trees with on both sides of it, white peacocks paced over the grass, searching the fallen leaves from years past for food. 

Inside the house it was cool, despite the fire that burned in the hearth of the great room into which Glorfindel now was led. Ecthelion disappeared after bidding his friend to sit down at the table and came back some minutes later, bearing a tray laden with wine, cheese and freshly baked bread. The golden-haired elf remained silent as his friend took a seat on the opposite of the table.

"Eat and drink something, you will feel better," he offered, shoving a glass of wine over to Glorfindel, who simply shook his head and said nothing, staring down on the honey-coloured wood. 

"What is it with you, Atanóno?" he asked now. "I can clearly see that something grieves you. Yet it will not help if you stay silent and pretend that the problem is non-existent. I have never seen you in such a mood before." 

At this, Glorfindel lifted his head and looked at the other elf. "How did you know of my rebirth? You had… passed on already when I fell prey to one of the fiery demons. Am I looked through so easily, like a book lying open for everyone to read in?" 

"No, you are not. But I suppose it is easy for those who have the same fate, to tell if someone has been granted freedom from the Halls of Mandos," Ecthelion explained, recalling how he had felt in the days after he had returned himself. It had not been a pleasant sensation, and a hard task to become used to the life as a living again. He was sure that it was similar for his friend, and that this was the source of his silence. 

"When have you returned?" he asked now.

"But three days ago. 'Tis a strange feeling, to be free again. But it is not the same as before. I doubt it will ever be again," Glorfindel sighed. 

"No, it will not be," Ecthelion agreed. "But though it is different, it does not have to be worse. The past has gone by, do not measure what you had before with what you have now."

"I cannot. It is too tightly intertwined with my present." It could clearly be heard that he did not wish to talk about this matter, but Ecthelion did not let him get away this easily. 

"What is it? It is of no use if you keep everything hidden inside you. This is a lesson I have learned well after my own return, a lesson I would like to spare you from. Fate can be cruel, but the memories will fade, so you can make peace with yourself. Both for the past and the present." 

Glorfindel's fair voice quavered slightly as he answered reluctantly. "I would. But some actions cannot be forgiven, and it is not but I who am concerned by those. Do you not have a wife and a child? Did you not walk away, leaving them behind, too?" 

"Yes, I did so indeed, you know this as well as I do. You were there. But this is not important... I had to face the same obstacles you are looking upon now. When I returned, I feared that begging for forgiveness would fall on deaf ears, but I was proved wrong. It was hard in the beginning, and I needed their help as well as they needed mine… and though the memories of Gondolin did never fully disappear, they have faded; and my family has learned to forgive and forget in time. We have been granted a second chance, Glorfindel, to live among those who have never rebelled, and maybe we can regain our innocence. Do not throw your new life away for no reason but that you are too proud to confess your feelings." 

"You are right. This has caused much grief before, and I will not have it so again. But how will I know that everything will happen as you predicted?"

"To know this for certain is not possible, but remember my words, though the council I gave you may be vague. This is the Blessed Realm, no ill will happen here."

"Ill has happened in this land before," Glorfindel interjected. His voice was bitter. 

"But it is said that through the designs of Ilúvatar from ill deeds and happenings will come greater joy and beauty, and though this may not yet have been fulfilled, it will happen so." Ecthelion smiled, looking at his friend with sparkling eyes. It had been a saying in Gondolin that few things could dim the spirit of the Lord of the House of the Fountain, and this was seemingly true. 

As Glorfindel said nothing, but merely smiled back, even if hesitantly, Ecthelion handed him the glass of wine anew, rapidly changing the topic of their talk.

"You have not yet tasted it. Do not tell me now that I have opened a bottle of the finest vintage from my cellar for naught, or…" 

"Or what? Will you keep me captive in your house until I have emptied it alone?" 

"Indeed, I will. And you will have to eat all the bread and cheese. So, what is your decision, golden-tressed?" 

"You defeated me. I shall do as you wish, but then return home. There are people I need to speak with before the sun has set." 

After a while he bade farewell to his friend of old, distracted from his sorrows for the moment. 

"I must return home now," he said and smiled. "Thank you, Ecthelion."

"Do not thank me, Glorfindel. I wish you all the luck I have had, and more," the fair Noldo answered. "But there is something I have to ask from you," he said, smirking.

"Your request is granted. What is it?"

"I would dearly love to pay you and your family a visit, and Nólemire will surely want to accompany me."

Glorfindel laughed. "Be sure we will be prepared for your fair wife and yourself. Come to my house whenever you see fit. But it is time for me to go now. My son sets sail this evening, and I wish to talk to him before."

"Very well. Namárië, Glorfindel." 

The two elves clasped arms in a warrior's fashion and then the golden-haired elf began his way home. 

* * * 

It was late afternoon when Glorfindel approached his home in Valimar again. From the back garden he heard the happy yells of Súlindo and the voice of Ilurano, and for the merest of moments he doubted again that Ecthelion would indeed be right. Simply too much time had passed, and he had missed too much that it seemed nigh impossible to reconcile himself with his family. 

Throwing those thoughts off with an angry shake of his golden head, he entered the house, and went into the living room. In the midst of the silence here sat Elentinwë, cross-legged on the floor in front of the extinguished fire. The right of her slender hands was blackened as if she had touched the ashes and coals. She did not turn to look at him.

"I have been thinking, about the words we said on the morning after your return. I fear everything will not be as we wished it to happen… but the reverse. I have tried to act upon what we promised, but it is a hard thing to do. Maybe it is truly the best if we do as you suggested. It is not an easy way, but the only one I see that has a future… we should truly try to forget." 

Glorfindel remained silent, for he sensed that Elentinwë had not yet spoken all things that she wanted to say.

"It will not be easy for any of us, but I am tired of grieving for the past. I long for the bliss we once had, which I have been denied for the years of your absence. I have seen now that it is of no use pushing you away as I did in the past days; it only makes things worse. 

Will you forgive me for my foolish assumption?" 

"Nay," Glorfindel said. He heard the rapidly in-drawn breath of his wife, and immediately regretted having said this. "Nay, my love, for nothing that you have done needs forgiving. If one would need it, it would be I, and I alone. And it is so indeed. But I do not ask for forgiveness, I do not deserve it."

Elentinwë got up in a swift motion and said nothing to his words. Cursing in his mind, believing he had said or done something wrong again, Glorfindel did not expect her next words. But he would have sworn to the Lord Manwe himself that she sounded not as tired anymore.

"Shall we try then to rebuild what has been done wrong in the past?" 

"Yes. If we should fail, which I will not allow, then it will bring us no more hurt than going separate ways."

"I am glad we think alike. Ilurano will depart with the evening tide, and to bid him farewell we will gather here. 'Tis an important thing for him… so please join us to do the first step."

For a brief moment Elentinwë turned to look at him, waiting for an answer. As he nodded, she left the room with graceful steps, shutting the door to the garden behind her. 

* * *

When it grew dark, Glorfindel waited for the others to appear nervously. He sat in a comfortable chair by one of the windows on the eastern side of the room and looked into the swiftly falling night. His blue eyes were sharp and keen, and he could discern every single tree and flower in the darkened garden outside. Beyond the low white fence his son had crafted, he could see the sides of the Mountain, and further away the Pass of Light with a background of a starry sky.

The golden-haired turned around when the door creaked slightly, and Elentinwë entered, with the others following. Ilurano bore a basket of wood and cinder to built the fire. His face showed a carefully schooled expression as he looked at his father, and his eyes glimmered coldly in light of the blue-shining Feanorian lamps on the windowsills. Lairë went and darkened them one by one, until only two were left giving light on the backside of the room. 

A fire, expertly built by Ilurano flared up suddenly, lighting all their faces in a soft orange. Súlindo yawned, and wriggled from the lap of his mother, who in the meantime had sat down next to Glorfindel. He walked over to his father, who was wiping his sooty hands on a cloth, and demanded to be taken into his arms. 

"Atar, do I have to go and rest already?" he asked suddenly, thus bringing a slight smile to his father's face. 

"No, not today. Though it is well past your time, you are allowed to stay awake and bid your father farewell," Lairë answered, before Ilurano had even opened his mouth to speak. 

The smile of the young elf dimmed as he was reminded on what he would have liked to forget, and he lowered his gaze. "Atar, why do you have to go?" he asked in a quiet voice edged with disappointment. 

"There is an island where people live who need the help of my comrades and I. You do not need help here, so where do you think I am needed the more?" Ilurano answered, while sitting down, and pulling his son into his lap to face him. 

Súlindo nodded, understanding what his father tried to tell him. "They need you there," he said, and stuck out his lower lip in an adorable pout. "But when will you come back?" 

The elder elf smiled fondly, ruffling his son's dark hair gently. "You shall barely notice my absence. But a month will pass before I return home."

"But that is too long, Atar!" he was interrupted by a defiant cry. "Can you not come back earlier?" 

"No, there is no way to do this. It may take some time to become acquainted with the situation on the island, and the way by sea alone is long enough."

After those words Súlindo remained silent, but a sad light shone in his grey eyes, and he clearly showed his unwillingness to be parted from his father, even if it were but for a month's time. 

Ilurano sighed, and looked at his own father for a second, who had followed the conversation with a serious face. It reminded Glorfindel all too much of his past, which he refused to think about in this moment, the advice of Ecthelion forgotten for the time being.

"Is there anything I can do for you to console you?" Ilurano asked now, turning his gaze to his son again. The face of the young one brightened after a moment of thoughtful consideration. 

"You could sing something!" Súlindo suggested and grinned. His father had a voice pleasant to listen to. "The Voyage of Eärendil," his son requested now and looked at his father pleadingly. 

"Very well. This is a song short enough, and I will be able to sing it to you in full. You know that I would sing you an even longer lay, if time permitted it, do you not?" 

"Yes Atar, I know." Súlindo embraced him tightly. "Can you sing now?" 

"I will. Hush, and listen," he whispered, putting a finger to his lips to indicate silence, before he began to sing softly.

"Eärendil arose where the shadow flows

At Ocean´s silent brim;

Through the mouth of the night as a ray of light

Where the shores are sheer and dim

He launched his bark like a silver spark

From the last and lonely sand;

Then on sunlit breath of day´s fiery death

He sailed from Westerland.

He treaded his path over the aftermath

Of the splendour of the the Sun,

And wandered far past many a star

In his gleaming galleon.

On the gathering tide of darkness ride

The argosies of the sky,

And spangle the night with their sails of light

As the streaming star goes by.

Unheeding he dips past these twinkling ships,

By his wayward spirit whirled

On an endless quest through the darkling West

O´er the margin of the world;

And he fares in haste o´er the jewelled waste

And the dusk from whence he came

With his heart afire with bright desire

And his face in silver flame.

The Ship of the Moon from the East comes soon

From the Haven of the Sun,

Whose white gates gleam in the coming beam

Of the mighty silver one.

Lo! with bellying clouds as his vessel´s shrouds

He weighs anchor down the dark,

And on shimmering oars leaves the blazing shores

In his argent-timbered bark.

The Eärendil fled from that shipman dread

Beyond the dark earth´s pale,

Back under the rim of the Ocean dim,

And behind the world set sail;

And he heard the mirth of the folk of earth

And the falling of their tears,

As the world dropped back in a cloudy wrack

On its journey down the years.

Then he glimmering passed to the starless vast

As an isléd lamp at sea

And beyond the ken of mortal men 

Set his lonely errantry."

All eyes in the room had turned to Ilurano when he had started the song, and no one noticed that Glorfindel had paled visibly and that a bewildered expression had found its way into his blue gaze. He heard the others clapping after Ilurano's voice had died down, and mechanically moved his hands, but everything seemed far away. A mist had fallen before his eyes, and the fire seemed to give but a dull light. The words "Thank you, Atar" drifted to him as through a great distance of space and time as he wondered what fate it was that the son of Tuor and Idril had to bear now. The song had been but one fashioned for the ears of children, in nothing it resembled the fair lays the Noldor and Vanyar had written, and he was not sure what in it was true and what was not. 

"Where have you learned this song?" Glorfindel asked his son, pushing a golden strand of hair back behind a finely pointed ear. "I would like to hear more about the tale that inspired it," he said.

His son turned to him, his expression unreadable. 

"Do not feign not to know who Eärendil is. Even I know, and it was not me of the two of us who lived in Ondolinde," he answered briefly, and motioned to Súlindo to sit on the thick rug that covered the floor. "I need to depart now, time grows late. Mother, farewell. I shall return soon, do not fear. I will not abandon you," he added as an afterthought, and it was clear to everyone in the room to whom his words were addressed. 

"The same I say to you, my love," ignoring Glorfindel he went over to the chair in which Lairë had settled. "I will think of you in the time of our absence." Kneeling down beside her, he took his wife's hand and still in his, he placed it on her belly, where a new life was growing. "I regret to miss this time, but you know I have no choice but to obey. "

"I know," she answered simply. "But it will do no ill. If you were not there in the first days of the babe's life, it would be of more harm. A child ought to know its father." 

"I will be there when the time comes. My absence will take no more time than a month, whatever comes to pass." 

Next he sat down next to his son, who had examined the golden, blue and silver threads in the dark green carpet that formed delicate patterns, with his fingers. Súlindo looked up, his eyes reflecting the firelight.

"I will be back soon, you have my word. I promise to you to hold true to it."

"By the Lord Manwe and the Lady Varda Elentári?"

"Yes, by the Lord Manwe and the Lady Varda Elentári. And if I find something that might be a gift worthy of my son, I will bring it home with me."

"But I just want _you_ to come back," Súlindo whispered into his father's ear, who nodded and got up. At last he looked to Glorfindel. "Farewell," he said before leaving the room, the others following him.

Outside, Nermi stood waiting with Ilurano's pale grey horse. It stepped around and snorted, eager to be able to run once more. The bells on its bridle tinkled and the pale gems on it flashed as the caught a ray of moonlight. Ilurano, now wearing his travelling cloak, adjusted the straps of his pack and, patting the neck of the horse, mounted it with a swift, elegant movement.

Horse and rider sped away swiftly, the light sound of the hoofs sounded loud in the nightly silence. When Ilurano had arrived at the eastward bent of the road that would lead him out of sight, he reined in his horse and halted. Turning around on the horseback shortly, he waved at them, and then dashed off again, disappearing out of view. 

While the sound of the hoofs faded away into the distance, Glorfindel suggested to go inside, for it had grown late already, and smiled at the young elf on his arm, who had trouble keeping his eyes open. 

"It would be a wise thing to do," Lairë agreed, who had still been looking into the distance, a hand resting on her belly once more. "I just hope he returns in time," she murmured and followed the others back into the building.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Quenya names and words:

Elentinwë - Glinting Starlight, wife of Glorfindel 

Súlindo – Windsinger, son of Lairë and Ilurano

Lairë - means either Summer or Poem, decide which one you like better, wife of  Ilurano

Ilurano - Universe-Wanderer, mother-name and prophetic name of Glorfindel´s son

Nermi - field-spirit (pl. Nermir, a group of the Ainur, fays of the meads, she is an elf, though), one of the housemaids

Olórin - Quenya-name of Gandalf

Andor – Land of the Gift, a name of Númenor that the Valar used

Arien - the maiden steering the sun-ship

Calacirya – The Pass of Light, a gap in the Encircling Mountains

Pelori – The Encircling Mountains protecting Valinor

Amil – mother

Atar - father (see Sindarin "Adar")

Some notes about the chapter: 

I honestly do not know if young elves loose their teeth. It is pure speculation. 

The Tale-fire is, as said in the story, a custom of the elves in Tol Eressea that was kept burning by magic. I am not sure here either, if the elves of Valinor adopted this custom. But it makes a nice bit of symbolism, so I decided to keep it in the story. 

The "The Voyage of Eärendil" is a poem written by J.R.R. Tolkien, and published in the Lost Tales II. 

Response to reviewers:  

TreeHugger: 

Thank you, mellon nin. I think you have made a very true statement here, about women writing other women… of course, many stories are used self-inserts and wish-fulfilment, but I try not to do this here. Of course, every character we write has got bits and pieces from ourselves in him/her, but that is hard to avoid. 

Yes, Glorfindel should be really pleased. Súlindo is really cute, and I actually got the request if he could be adopted ;)  It is best not to think about what will come to pass in the future now. Wait some more chapters, and maybe it will be a bit easier for you then. You already know the outline, don't you? It is basically still the same. The relationship of Glorfindel and Ilurano will not be easily mended, but there happens something that makes it a bit easier… for both.  As for the eagle… I think it was needed to lighten the rather contemplative mood in this chapter, and it came in handy for some foreshadowing. 

Dragon-of-the-North:

I am very happy to hear that I could live up your expectations. It doesn't matter to me whether you give the feedback in English or German, just keep it coming. I am not making it easy for him, true… but as I said to Tree.. you will have to wait a bit to see further development into the right direction for Glor and his son. Thank you for the feedback, and I promise not to take as long with updating as I did this time.

Purple-sorceress:

Thank you for the nice feedback. I am glad you liked the Istari idea, at least Gandalf/Olórin will get greater significance in the later development of the story, and this was a nice way to introduce him. 

Klose:  
Yes, a thank you for you. You deserve it, don't be so shy! I hope you like the interaction of Glor and his son in this chapter, and I am glad that you like Elentinwë. 

Don't be ashamed of ACfS, it is a wonderful story, and I hope you will continue it soon. Be assured, that your Laurefin, though she is a minor Mary Sue, is a wonderful character. And no, your review was not but a jumbled mess of thoughts. Actually, it was more coherent than the ones I manage to give. 

Finch :

Thank you. It is truly not easy for him, this is true... but there may very well be a way to escape his past, at least temporarily. You are right about the scenes with the Maiar, this was exactly what I intended to do. And I suppose the eagle will be a recurrent feature, yes – but mostly not because of me, but also, and more important, because Tolkien has used it in so many occasions. 

Wait a while, and you will be enlightened further. It will not take this long for chapter 4. =)

Twin03

Thanks! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

Queen of Shadows

They will make up eventually… or not? I you will have to wait for the answer ;) But your review was all too true, and yes, he Glorfindel does leave again. He has to.

Kazaera: 

There are really not enough Glorfindel-fics, someone should really change that! Thank you for your thoughts on Elentinwë and Súlindo, I really appreciate the fact that you think she is not a Mary Sue. And well… here is more, I hope you liked this third chapter.

Wen Quendalie:

* bows as well * I feel honoured that you say this… but then, one can never do enough research, one of the facts that this chapter took so incredibly long to write. Other than that, I am truly trying to flash out the characters clearly, so people can identify with them. As for your knowledge about Glorfindel, don't take this story as Canon. Tolkien never said that he was married or even had children, so this part is purely speculation from my side. Let me know if you would like to talk about this, and I will drop you a mail. 

Fymhrisfawr:

Thank you for the feedback =) As you see, I have had time enough to write, and well.. here is the next chapter. I hope you like it as well. If you should find any typos, please let me know so I can fix them and re-upload the chapter. 

Sunsong:

Of course I did not stop writing on this story, though it may have seemed so for a while. I promise to try and get the chapters coming faster! Thank you for the feedback, and I am flattered that you can not think of CC. Surely my story can't be this good…  

Kaltia the Shadowcat:

Thank you, Kaltia. I am glad as well that the plagiarist has been banned from ff.net, hopefully this is something she is not going to do again, no matter where. 

I can't say how happy it makes me that you enjoy this story so much, and give such feedback. Thanks!

Celebrain of Imladris:

Thank you for the feedback in the first place, it was really helpful, and made me think about what I wrote, as well about what I am going to write. You are absolutely right with asking "why", this is what everything comes down to in the end. As for the fact that everything could have been slightly more extended – you are right, but I did not want to give away too much, and I am trying to built up some background here, so the reader can think him/herself about what happened "off-screen". Some flashbacks will come in later, maybe they will explain more about the time after his return. 

About the last flashback: Yes, he may seem uncompassionate and self-centred there, but then, he was not always the elf he now is. Everyone makes mistakes, and I suppose that very strong emotions played a big part here. Despite me trying to explain this away, I think you are right about Elentinwë, and tried to incorporate this in this chapter. Thank you again for the CC, and yes, I know how rare it is for you to give feedback. You told me ;) 

Elvea Aure aka Amanfalathiel:

Now this is most certainly the most unique review I ever got, but I am still very glad about the fact that you like GF,SS. I will most certainly continue, do not fear. 

If you enjoyed this chapter and/or have any constructive criticism, please leave a review. 

* * *


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